Bonnie Blue broke the attention economy

You’ve heard the expression “I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire in the street.” My friend Jamie W invented it. This is the same Jamie W who once persuaded a bunch of us to piss on a Bible behind the phone booth in the tiny village in the Yorkshire Dales where I grew up. We didn’t post a video of that on social media because none of us had mobile phones. We didn’t tell anyone about it because we thought we might get into catastrophic trouble—though the village only had about 200 people, so everyone was always up in your business anyway. We did it purely for the fleeting little rush we all got, having gone to a Church of England school and being forced to sing from Hymns of Praise every single morning at assembly.

Why am I starting this article with such a piss-sodden bit of blasphemy? Because I am going to write about Bonnie Blue today, and her frankly confusing situation. If you have no idea who she is, click away now. Here is the short and loveless summary of her recent antics. She’s an OnlyFans shaggamuffin who rose to infamy for an array of extreme public stunts, notably she broke several records for fucking a bunch of strangers. Nothing new… Annabel Chong and Jasmin St. Claire did the same. That was back in the 90s too, when I wasn’t pissing on the holy book, I was off my tits on ecstasy which the government said would give me an epileptic heart attack and kill me or make me go insane. Dropping e as a teenager living in a such a loveless void seemed quite sane to me back then.

But Bonnie has spent the last year monetising outrage even in a world where cuming on someone’s face is considered tame. Her business strategy is rage and outrage (and getting feckless men to smear her in jizm). She previously paraded a prosthetic baby bump across social media, only to gleefully reveal it was “rage bait” designed to trick “dumb parents” into funding her luxury holiday villa. She is, effectively, the female Andrew Tate of the attention economy. She is an operator who realised that traditional moral guardrails are just friction points slowing down your cash flow, successfully converting public infamy into high-yield subscription funnels. But, unsatiated (either for money or jiz) with the “Gotcha! I’m not really pregnant! LOL” cleverness, Bonnie decided to spread her legs further. She had a winning formula now and she wasn’t done flogging it. She then launched a “400-man breeding mission” stunt in which the feckless men were instructed to inseminate her in a cream pie bonanza never before seen or dreamt of, after which she took a pregnancy test on camera. This time, the baby bump is real. She spent the summer hosting a corporate-sponsored “golden shower” baby shower in London, doubling down on the fetishisation of her own pregnancy. She said “Pregnancy is a big fetish for a lot of people. Who knows, I might be pregnant only once. So I am gonna make the most of it,” in this article by Girl Online brilliant author Abha Ahad).

So, is this generation fucked? Or is the society a fetid cumstain?

This again?

Juvenoia is an eternal, cyclical curse. My generation were bemoaned when we were young (rightly, since I was pissing on the bible and dropping e), just like we are bemoaning the next. It is the ancient, reflexive anxiety that the youth of today are uniquely depraved and that society is sliding into a moral abyss. Hesiod, the Ancient Greek poet who wrote Theogony (basically the pre-cursor to Stephen Fry’s Mythos) was going on about “ugh, the youth of today” back in 700 BC. When I was a kid, the British press was screaming about it during the 90s rave scene.

Everyone thinks the oldies had it easy and the young ones are fucked. But, I must admit, my whole internal understanding of things that are “fucked” has been, as my internal monologue delicately put it “creampied to shit” by Bonnie Blue.

I first heard about Bonnie Blue while watching a Louis Theroux documentary about the manosphere. She wasn’t the main focus, but she was being interviewed by HSTikkyTokky, the exact type of alpha-hustler content creator I parodied in a recent article about Andrew Tate’s gentler side. Even that guy—a fundamentally moribund vapid muscle-headed prick—expressed deep, performative disgust toward her. And if you’ve never heard of Bonnie Blue, then I’m incredibly sorry for bringing her into your consciousness. You can go back and blame Louis Theroux if you want. But actually, I don’t think Louis is to blame, I don’t think I’m to blame, and in a way, I don’t think Bonnie Blue is to blame either. The whole fucking system is to blame. It’s absolutely rotten.

Here’s how it works: ou click on her or not, whether you pay her directly or not, she gets money for the engagement. Everything gets amplified and she ends up buying a luxury villa. It functions as a giant, unhygienic, visually disgusting mess—an ouroboros of bullshit where she does something outrageous, the public reacts with predictable horror, the media amplifies the moral high-grounding to capture ad revenue, and the resulting metrics buy her a luxury villa.

In fact, this whole thing would be quite well summarised as being akin to a giant creampie—a visually disgusting mess which not a turn-on, but in fact just messy, unhygienic, and, you know, basically unsound in as many ways as I can think of.

The Tail-eating Snake at the Basal Ganglia

Despite the fact that I was deeply repulsed by it, I couldn’t help but view it through an anthropological lens. Those familiar with media scholar Whitney Phillips’s research on subcultural internet trolls will find this dynamic incredibly familiar. Phillips argues that trolls utilize the exact same structural mechanisms as the mainstream media, offering an unintended, implicit critique of the dominant culture.

The mainstream press will happily plaster a teenage tragedy on the front page because they know human eyeballs are driven by a morbid fascination with threat. There is a hardwired biological reason for this: our brains are designed to pay desperate attention to things that are dangerous or threatening to our survival. Fast-forward a few millennia, and while we no longer have to sprint away from sabertooth tigers (though I did have to outrun some angry truckers a few times growing up in the Dales), those identical fight-or-flight mechanisms remain baked directly into our basal ganglia.

When something spikes your cortisol, your brain registers it as critically important. So when an operator like Bonnie Blue triggers our moral survival reflex, we don’t run away. We click. And in this exhausting economy of engagement, that click is the only currency required to win. AND I AM DOING IT TOO… RIGHT NOW I AM JUMPING ON HER JIZZY BANDWAGON. We are all part of the big disgusting creampie. We are all pissing into the wind at the edge of the canyon of jiz.

The Limits of Shock

Fortunately, the machine has finally begun to backfire. In June, she was permanently banned from OnlyFans after attempting to push her public stunts past the platform’s corporate breaking point, instantly vaporising an estimated £600,000 a month in revenue. While she won’t be entering a state of absolute destitution after migrating her remaining archive to alternative spaces like Fansly, it represents a massive structural victory for… people who have frankly had enough jiz.

But my biggest problem, and the bit I cannot wrap my poor jiz-addled brain around, is the ultimate censorship paradox. I despise state-mandated muting and digital puritanism on absolute principle, yet my brain experiencing visceral cognitive repulsion wishes this imagery had never breached my mental workspace. This is where the total nihilism locks its gears. It is fucked up that she was allowed to turn this into a commercial empire, but it would be structurally more dangerous to allow corporate algorithms or state censors to completely dictate human expression. It is an environment where nobody gets to hold the moral high ground. In some ways, Bonnie is an artist. She has trolled the world, she has brought the out-of-control adult industry under scrutiny, she has made men look even more disgusting than we thought possible, and she has made a fat pile of cash in the process. In the attention economy, that is art. People say trolling is an art. This is it. The implicit critique is literally pregnant, being pissed on by a bunch of men wearing blue balaclavas and eating baby food mixed with bodily fluids.

You are not supposed to drink alcohol when pregnant, but nobody said anything about being pissed on for money.

And behind all these abstract layers of media theory and cynical performance art lies a jarring, quiet biological truth: there is an actual, innocent human child being gestated inside this matrix of crowd-sourced fetishisation. When she holds that baby in her arms, she will know that a legacy of internet fury paid for its first crib. Surely that reality doesn’t just sink to the bottom of the subconscious and dissolve like a water-soluble hangover pill. When her post-partum depression hits her, I wonder what she will think to herself.

The Silver Lining

Yet, if you look closely at the wreckage reported by outlets like The Independent, a genuine silver lining is emerging. The younger generation isn’t being corrupted by this hyper-extreme shock economy; they are completely bored shitless by it. Gen Z and the emerging youth cohorts are demonstrating systemic outrage fatigue. When shock value becomes a transparent, highly predictable marketing funnel, it ceases to be edgy counter-culture. It is just profoundly cringe. Younger audiences are actively logging off, muting the algorithmic instigators, and rejecting creators who have clearly traded their basic humanity for platform metrics.

My take on it is kind of confused. The executive conclusion I am brought to is that everything is fucked. It’s fucked up that she was allowed to even do this, but then it would be more fucked up if she wasn’t allowed to do it. Or would it? Which is worse? A world where censorship takes over and we prevent people like this from basically having what I can only assume is some kind of self-harming mental breakdown of a sexual nature that she has monetised and she seems to think she’s winning from? Or the alternative, where she would be put in a mental home and probably get pregnant by an evil male doctor abusing his position of power over her. If he were Neil Gaiman he might even piss on her anyway or get her to suck him off before he’d shaken the dew from the lily properly. What is wrong with people?

Time to end this horror by looking directly into the mirror. You are currently reading a newsletter about an internet troll who leveraged an unprotected pregnancy to buy real estate, written by an expat author using her viral SEO wake to trigger your open rates and boost his own account metrics. Welcome to the jizm-powered internet hate-machine.

Anyway, I am keeping this one short because this internet rot has eaten enough into my morning. I have a fresh cup of tea on my desk, the house is completely quiet, and I am supposed to be writing a story about cryogenic billionaires who wake up on trial in a bureaucratic future.

Thanks for reading, and sorry for telling you about all of this.